


L'Autonomie

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Identity Reveal, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Slow Burn, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: After three years, Marinette tells Chat Noir who she is. The only problem is that he doesn't believe her, insisting that her and Marinette couldn't be the same person. With the knowledge he's close to her, she tries to figure out who he is. AU.(mari finds out adrien is chat noir and has fun planting clues to make him believe she's ladybug.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Comments: 49
Kudos: 789





	L'Autonomie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alinette/gifts).



> Hi, _Alinette_! I'm your tumblr secret santa. This story is pretty short and I tried to lean more towards a ridiculous plot to make it different, but it kind of toned down along the way. Originally, Marinette was going to be a complete troll. I hope you enjoy it!

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“I'm Marinette.”

A lot of things built up to that moment.

From fighting side-by-side for two, almost three, years, protecting the city from a supernatural evil, to their banter that only lasted a while, abruptly cut short in their limited moments after the fight had finished. Their secret identities—the way they kept their normal lives separate and unknown to the public since the very beginning—meant that they couldn't stick around after, couldn't catch up and talk freely with each other.

Most of the time, people overheard them. Sometimes cameras were pointed at them, trying to get any bit of information to report about—anything about the two superheroes that helped to protect the city.

And wasn't that _weird_?

Marinette never thought she'd be considered a superhero, not even before she could be classified as an adult.

It seemed practical to keep their identities a secret.

Chat Noir had been there for years; having her back, taking hits for her, and making her smile and laugh, even in the worst situations. Though they barely spent time together outside of fights—choosing not to scare the city with their sightings, as they were associated with akumas destroying the area—she could proudly say that he was her best friend.

He could be trusted.

“My name,” she clarified, working up the nerve to stare into his eyes. “It's Marinette, I mean.”

Chat blinked. “What?”

“You don't have to reveal yourself,” she blurted. “Not if you don't want to.”

He ran a hand through his blond-coloured hair, not knocking the cat ears off of his head. “You—”

“We've met before,” Marinette explained, rocking on her heels, feeling a little giddy from their interaction.

It had been thought out, so it wasn't a spur of the moment thing. Marinette had caught him before he disappeared after their last fight, whispering to meet her on a specific rooftop, somewhere where they'd be out of sight and hearing distance of anyone else. The only people that would be coming up were the ones that lived in the building, and they were standing near to the door, able to know when someone was opening it.

Marinette had tried it beforehand, so she knew that it creaked badly.

“A few times,” she readily expanded. “You even flirted with me once or twice, so that was a bit odd.”

The only way to describe his expression was confused. “You're—you're not Marinette.”

She frowned. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you're not,” he insisted, frazzled. “You're—”

“I think I know my own name?” she replied, tilting her head a little as he stared at him in bemusement. “Shouldn't you be, like, overjoyed that I'm finally telling you?”

“I know Marinette,” Chat replied, eyebrows furrowed underneath his mask, only visible as the material contorted magically with his facial expressions, never slipping. “I've _seen_ her when you've been there. That's—you're not her.”

He had a good point there.

Then again, she had a quick response. “That was because of an akuma.”

Chat squinted at her. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Why wouldn't you?” she countered. “Is it so hard to believe that I'm her?”

“No, you—” Chat breathed out audibly. “When I say I know her, I really do mean it. I think I'd—I would definitely know if you were her. So, please... don't.”

It hurt a little.

Marinette's voice cracked a little as she asked, “You _know_ me?”

“I know Marinette,” he corrected, taking a step back and looking at her as though he would be able to see through her disguise. But the magical bodysuit and mask made it so no one would be able to recognise her, not even if she held a picture of herself normally up to her face. “She's my—she's my friend.”

There was a lot of things that weren't said between them.

Along with the agreement to keep their identities a secret in the beginning—from fear of their families being targeted from the villain, Papillon, in the beginning—they never discussed their private lives. Marinette only had rough information that he was close to her age and a few personal details; like what he preferred to eat, or passing references he'd made.

But with that confession, she whispered, “Isn't that a good thing?”

“Is that why you asked me here?” Chat asked, purposely ignoring what she'd said.

“Well, yeah,” Marinette replied, awkwardly reaching up and fiddling with her earring. “We never... we never really see each other, do we? But I thought if I—if I told you who I am, we could? If you wanted to. Yeah.”

“So you're saying if I walk up to Marinette tomorrow,” Chat started, talking slow. “And say an inside joke between us, she'll understand?”

She insisted, “I'll understand!”

“I know you're friends,” he said with a frown. “But isn't that—that's a bit weird, isn't it? You don't have to communicate with me through your friend just because we barely see each other.”

Baffled, all she could come out with was, “...What?”

“Marinette won't even know it's me,” he responded, taking a step closer and gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “If you want to spend more time together, we could always meet up on the weekends? Like we are now. I'll even bring snacks or something. We don't have to use Marinette as a pigeon between us.”

Marinette looked at him in utter confusion. “How did you get _that_ from what I said?”

He mirrored her expression. “You're not asking me to reveal who I am to her, are you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I'm—are you _stupid_?”

“That's just rude.” He sniffed. “I'm actually very smart, thank you.”

“Clearly not,” she muttered, knocking his hand off of her. “What's so unbelievable about me being Marinette?”

For a moment, Chat looked uncertain on how to answer. He opened his mouth, no words coming out, before pursing his lips as he thought. Then, he came out with, “You're awesome, truly.”

“Okay, and?” she prompted.

“And Marinette is, too,” he said with a nod, agreeing with his own words. “But the two of you are different kinds of awesome, if you get me? It doesn't make sense.”

She let out an exasperated breath. “Are you serious?”

“She's cool, you know that,” Chat pointed out. “You're her friend, right? I am, too. She just doesn't know it's me, yeah? And I want to keep it that way.”

There were only so many people that she actually considered friends. Marinette had been in the same class for most of her life, barely anyone transferring in or leaving, but there was a difference between happily talking to someone at school or meeting up outside.

If Chat considered himself her friend, what one did he qualify as?

There wasn't anyone that she could think was him.

“And me?” she asked quietly.

He questioned, “You?”

“Will you tell me?” Marinette whispered. “Who you are?”

He wetted his lips. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I do,” she said. “We've... I've known you so long, but I don't _know_ you. If that makes sense?”

Chat reached out, taking her hand into his. “What changed?”

She smiled. “Nothing, I think.”

He looked baffled at that. “Eh?”

“We've never really fought, right?” Marinette explained, not looking away from his gaze. “I can rely on you for anything, and I... I want that normally, too. I want to know you, to spend time with you.”

There was barely any light up where they were, but she could see the way his smile reached his eyes. “You first,” he whispered. “Tell me who you are first.”

She squeezed his hand. “I've already told you.”

And in that moment, he let go of her hand with a sigh. “You're still going with that?”

But why was it so hard to believe? The only glaring difference between when she was transformed and not was that she had more strength, could jump great distances, and could never be injured while in the suit. The magic helped boost her physically, but it didn't _change_ her.

She thought she was great normally.

So, if she was, wouldn't that mean the same for Chat? It was doubtful that a skintight bodysuit made him have a sense of humour that wasn't there in his everyday life.

“Because it's true!” Marinette retorted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Why are you being such an ass about this?”

He frowned. “I don't like being lied to.”

“I could literally drop the transformation right now,” she slowly replied, as though she was talking to a child. “And I'd be standing here in my pyjamas.”

Chat pointed a finger at her. “Don't tease me with stripping right now.”

“You're _insufferable_!”

“Come on, Ladybug,” he replied, voice wobbling with frustration towards the end. “Stop playing with me, will you? I—I really thought you were serious for a minute there.”

It wasn't her wisest decision, but she felt slighted.

Marinette raised her middle finger at him before leaping away with her bandalore, leaving him behind.

-x-

It wasn't that she was offended.

Rather, Marinette felt... wronged.

As flattering as it had been for him to admit that he thought she was awesome in her everyday life, it didn't negate the fact that he hadn't believed her at all.

Marinette was stubborn.

So, when it came time for classes with the knowledge that Chat had to be someone in her college—as she barely had friends outside of school, people she hadn't seen for _years—_ she donned her own merchandise that she'd been gifted over the years.

She'd avoided wearing it before, even though she knew that no one would be able to tell it was her, but it felt weird to have her own face or suit design on casual clothing. Marinette liked to distance herself from the same appearance, preferring to be creative and wear what she wanted.

When she turned up to lunch with a red-and-black colour scheme for her clothes, it raised a few eyebrows from her friends.

Alya, one of her closest friends for the past few years, whistled. “Is this a dare?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, sliding into her seat and putting her bag onto her lap, taking out her food. “But you can't say I don't look good in spots, can you?”

“Sure,” Alya said, looking at her suspiciously. “But it's making me wonder whether you hit your head or something. These colours are far too edgy for you.”

She sniffed. “I can wear black if I want to.”

“Are you in mourning?” Nino, Alya's boyfriend, asked.

“Yes,” she confirmed, letting her bag fall down onto the floor. “I'm mourning the fact that you're all idiots. What happened to your brains?”

Nino grinned, showing his teeth. “They melted at the sight of you almost cosplaying.”

Marinette brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Can you melt from my beauty instead?”

“Always, babe,” Alya assured her, patting her leg in a patronising way. “Have you seen Adrien yet? He's late.”

“No,” she told them. “My classroom got changed, so I wasn't next to him.”

It was some minutes later when Adrien turned up. His blond-coloured hair was messy, only one strap of his backpack on his shoulder, and his cheeks were a little pink as he slid into the seat with enough force to cause it to bump into Nino's, making the two of them touch shoulders.

Nino put the back of his hand against his forehead. “You sure know how to make me swoon, man.”

“I'm good at making an entrance,” Adrien agreed, sounding a bit winded. “Sorry, had to talk to my teacher after.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “And you ran because of that?”

“Oh, I—” Adrien started, turning his head to look at her and abruptly stopping what he was saying. “What?”

“You ran?” she repeated, a bit surprised by his reaction. For as much of a petty statement she was trying to make with it, Adrien seemed to be the one to react the most strongly to it. “You're close to breathing heavily, dude.”

He blinked. “I—yeah.”

The answer wasn't very clear, but Nino cut in, changing the topic.

And as she ate her food, Marinette looked around the room. It couldn't fit all the students in the school, and teachers allowed some to stay in the classrooms and work on their assignments, but almost everyone that she said more than a greeting to was in the room.

If Chat was one of those people—and he had to be—wouldn't be look at her with a frown?

He refused to believe she was Marinette, after all.

But no one really questioned it. She got compliments for her outfit—which wasn't tacky or made of cheap material—but that was it.

No one looked at her with exasperation.

She kept it up, though.

There was only so much merchandise that she owned; most were pyjamas that she wouldn't dare wear outside of her home. She paired the few black and red clothes she owned together, but it was a pitiful amount. She tended to stick to the brighter or softer colours to express herself.

Alya was more than happy to lend her some clothes after she said she was doing it for a fashion-related project, and that she was going to be taking pictures of each of her outfits.

The clothes were one or two sizes bigger than her own, but they were easy to work with.

Nino was offering up his own clothes when Alya mentioned she was giving her hers, and Marinette was grateful that her friends were all so supportive.

It was all because she was stubborn.

The next time there was an akuma attack, it was in the late afternoon when she was walking home.

Chat beat her there.

He was standing with his arms crossed, inspecting the damage and staying out of the fight until she arrived, but his posture didn't change when she came to stand beside him.

“Hey,” she greeted, leaning her head on his shoulder. “What's up?”

“I'm mad at you,” he stated, not returning the affection gesture, but he wasn't moving away.

Marinette was doubtful. “Oh, are you?”

“Yes,” Chat insisted, resting his head on of hers. “Stop being adorable so I can scold you, please.”

“I don't know about that,” she replied. “This is kind of my charm. If I turn it off, what will I have left? Nothing, that's what. Do you want that for me?”

Chat hummed. “You'll still have your adorable face, so maybe turn around so I can talk to your back.”

“You just want to look at my ass,” she pointed out.

“Cover that, then,” he suggested. “Or I'll have to stare at your feet before realising I'm into them or something. I don't want to uncover a fetish like this, Ladybug.”

With a laugh, she proposed, “How about you tell me why you're mad at me, then?”

“You spoke to Marinette,” was his reply.

As tempted as she was to correct that, she asked instead, “What makes you say that?”

“Because she's dressing differently,” Chat explained, and she didn't have to look up to know that he was frowning. “Normally she's—she's all bright and stylish, right? But now she's wearing your merchandise and making every outfit be about _you_.”

She teased, “That sounds like you're jealous.”

“Don't involve Marinette in this!” he exclaimed, taking a step away from her and pointing an accusatory finger her way. “She's too sweet to be played around. You're supposed to be her friend, aren't you?”

“I don't know about that,” she muttered.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Why can't you just—why are you doing this?”

“Do you see her everyday?” Marinette questioned instead, pushing his hand down and gently taking it into her own. “If you notice her clothes that much, it means you're close, doesn't it?”

“That's not the point—”

“You do, right?” she persisted. “If you've noticed that much, you're nearby.”

He breathed out audibly. “We're friends, I told you that.”

“The type of friends that talk everyday, or the ones that just say hi in passing?” she asked. “Because there's a big difference there.”

Chat looked at her with a frown. “Does it matter?”

“I'm jealous if she gets to see you that often,” Marinette said.

“I'm her friend,” he insisted. “That's all. There's nothing to be jealous of.”

“A friend that notices what she's wearing,” she pointed out. “That means you pay her a lot of attention, doesn't it?”

He squeezed her hand lightly. “You're sounding really petty, you know.”

“Because I am,” Marinette announced. “I'm never going to get that much attention from you, you know? But Marinette loves me enough to wear my merchandise—”

A startled laugh escaped him. “Trying to get me into your clothes, are you?”

“Maybe,” she coyly replied. “Would you be up for that?”

“Fine,” Chat agreed, reaching up and cupping her face with his gloved hands. “If I wear something of yours, do you promise not to out me to Marinette?”

She grinned. “Of course.”

“And you'll tell me after,” he added on. “It's only fair, right?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, leaning into his touch. “But we should probably go and fix all the chaos first.”

Chat sighed, arms dropping back down to his side. “I suppose you're right.”

“We could stay here flirting forever, but I think everyone might be mad at us,” she mused. “Is that really worth it to you?”

He winked. “Any time with you is worth it.”

“For more time with me, you better wear something of mine,” she replied. “I'm looking forward to it.”

It wasn't something she'd ever thought he'd bring up, let alone agree to after he was convinced she'd played him around with her identity—but he beamed at her, clearly happy with their agreement.

And when they had to part ways, with her earrings beeping to signify how long she had until her transformation dropped, Chat saluted at her. Clearly, he wasn't mad at her any longer.

Then again, she'd never actually seen him legitimately angry at her before.

Of all the things she'd expected to see, it was never Adrien in a Ladybug shirt.

And yet, that was what she was greeted at.

They had lessons on similar sides of the campus, so it made sense for them to walk together between classes, filling the brief time together with chatter. But when she saw him with the themed t-shirt, one he'd never worn before, her throat suddenly felt tight.

Because he—

It had never crossed her mind that it could've been him.

And it couldn't just be a coincidence, could it? Adrien had his own taste in clothes, barely ever resorted to clothing with logos that weren't expensive, and tended to prefer the plain-looking ones that could've passed for cheap, if not for the quality of the material.

They looked like they were dressed up to match each other.

“Hey,” he greeted, a bit nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. “This doesn't look too bad, does it?”

Her words were stuck in her throat.

“I thought I'd join you,“Adrien announced, going as far as to strike a pose. “Tell me it's not awful and stroke my ego, please. The silence is making my self-esteem plummet.”

Her voice sounded a bit strangled as she replied, “I don't think you need any stroking.”

“I am pretty lonely,” he mused, tapping his fingertip against his chin, a dramatic pose for thinking. “You don't want to be the one to lessen my sadness?”

If he'd said that to her years ago—back when she'd first become Ladybug, and she had an obnoxious crush on him, before she'd calmed down and sorted through her feelings—she would've been over the moon. But at that time, she'd been too nervous to speak proper sentences to him, hands growing clammy from sitting beside him, thinking of all the things that could've gone wrong between them.

It had calmed down to a simple friendship, the crush all but forgotten. She had healthy friendships, a calm and steadily budding crush on her partner—

On _him_?

“I'm going to be late,” she blurted, turning on her heel and practically running in the direction of her next class.

She could hear Adrien's laughter as she left.

-x-

If there was any doubt that it was him, Adrien only made it worse as the days continued.

Sometimes it wasn't a t-shirt at all. He came in with a dotted hat one day, socks with Marinette's face on them that were warped horribly by his ankles and made Nino almost cry from laughter, along with pins on his designer backpack that would've made his father cry if he saw them.

It was almost a staple that the residents of the city support their superheroes; from buying merchandise, having comics about them, and a lot of themed products throughout different shops, so it wasn't unusual to see anyone wearing a shirt with her or Chat Noir on it.

But the only person wearing themed clothing for days on end—other than her—was Adrien.

She wanted to laugh.

It was ironic, wasn't it?

He was the last person she expected it to be.

“People are going to think we're dressing as a couple soon,” Marinette mused, gesturing towards the new hat he had on that day. “You're very committed to this.”

Adrien grinned. “I feel very included.”

“Right,” she responded, unconvinced. “That's why you're surely making your father's eyes bleed every morning? I can't imagine he's okay with you stepping out in peasant clothing.”

“How dare you?” Adrien gasped, putting a hand on his chest. “This is pleasant clothing, thank you very much.”

She squinted. “That wasn't even good.”

“You're not good,” he lamely shot back.

“I must be for you to match me,” she replied. “Unless you're trying to catch someone's attention by dressing so tastelessly?”

He countered, “Doesn't that mean you're also dressed tastelessly?”

“Absolutely not,” Marinette said, waving her hand dismissively. “Don't dodge the question. Is this a ridiculous fashion statement to get someone's attention? Because that's not the way to try and flirt with someone, I'm sorry to tell you.”

Adrien crossed his arms. “Who says it's a girl?”

“...I never said it was a girl,” she slowly pointed out. “But I guess it is a girl, then.”

Visibly struggling for words, his hands fell back down to his sides as all he could say was, “Shut up.”

She laughed. “Do you want some tips?”

“ _Tips_?” he questioned, incredulous. “You've never even dated anyone—”

“And you won't, if you don't listen to me,” Marinette interrupted, waggling her finger at him in disapproval. “You should know that taking care of your appearance is important.”

He muttered, “What a surprise.”

“And,” she continued, holding up one more finger to signify another point. “Ladybug's not going to date you if you look like a slob.”

“I—” Adrien started, wide-eyed and panicked as he stared at her, lips parted but no more words coming out.

And as she could imagine what was going through his head—as she had said that she wouldn't tell that information—she added on, “You are the guy trying to impress her, aren't you? Because I just got told it'll be someone wearing her merch, and that seems to be... you.”

He choked out, “What—what else did she tell you?”

“That you can go back to your normal clothes,” she stated, grinning. “You're much better looking when you're comfortable, you know?”

He shuffled on the spot, adjusting how he was standing. “You don't mean that.”

“I really do,” she insisted. “You look like a fanboy right now, and you really don't want that.”

Adrien looked down at his clothing, even though the only merchandise was his hat. “I do?”

“How many other people wear one person's merchandise every single day?” she questioned. “I don't count. This is an experiment.”

Puzzled, he asked, “Experiment?”

“Project, whatever,” she explained away. “As soon as you start looking normal, I'll tell Ladybug about you.”

Adrien looked dubious. “You talk to her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette confirmed, reaching up to tuck some stray hairs behind her ear. “But you do, too, don't you?”

He swallowed. “I—yeah.”

It was a little amusing to see his reaction.

Was he always so obvious with what he was feeling? Marinette knew that she was terrible at lying, but it was her voice that gave it away—for Adrien, his face was a clear indicator that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

She patted his shoulder on her way past. “Good luck.”

-x-

It started off small.

When Adrien started to wear his normal clothes, Marinette pulled him aside to say, “I've got a message to give you.”

His eyes grew wide. “You—you do?”

“Yes.” She tried to keep a straight face. “Ladybug wants you to know that your hair is sticking up.”

All he could do was stare at her in confusion for a moment. “What?”

“It says it on here,” Marinette announced, holding up her phone and shaking it a little, as if to prove her point. “It's very important that you know that.”

While raising a hand up to try and smooth his hair down—as it really was sticking up a little at the back—Adrien questioned, “She's _here_?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “She could just be spying on you through the windows. I don't know.”

Adrien's brow furrowed. “Are you messing with me right now?”

“I'd never,” she proclaimed. “I've really got her number.”

He squinted. “Prove it.”

“And leak it to you?” Marinette made a noise of disapproval. “I'm too responsible for that. Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Adrien said, “You're fucking with me, aren't you?”

“No,” she assured him. “I think she's just trying to weirdly tell you that she goes to our college—or I can blurt it out like that, I guess.”

Adrien looked dubious at that. “She goes here?”

“How else would she see your hair?” she pointed out. “And if you don't believe me, you could always ask her yourself.”

“I don't—”

“You must know her, right?” Marinette reminded him. “How else would you talk to her otherwise?”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “You're—yes, you're right. We absolutely know each other. Ladybug and I. Yeah.”

She snorted. “You don't sound too sure about that.”

“It's not something I like to brag about,” Adrien whispered, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It's supposed to be a secret, you know?”

She hummed. “Is that why I'm being the messenger between you two?”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and he genuinely did sound sincere. “Is this bothering you?”

“No, it's fine,” she assured him with a smile. “You're both my friends, so I'm happy to help out.”

With the seed that Ladybug attended the same school as him, Marinette had to try not to laugh when she saw him looking around at lunch, as if he'd be able to spot her in the crowd.

It wouldn't happen.

Marinette thought that, somehow, if she saw Chat in his everyday life, something would click and that she would just _know_. They knew each other so well, were so in tune, and yet, she'd sat beside him for years without even realising it.

And he was going to feel that exact same way when he stopped being an idiot and actually took her words seriously.

She was still petty.

So, when she saw him the following day as they walked to class together, Marinette tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to come closer.

Curious, he leaned in and asked, “What is it?”

“Ladybug asked me to tell you something,” she whispered.

As before, confusion flickered across his expression. “She did?”

Marinette nodded.

It was a simple plan.

There wasn't much that could go wrong with it.

Much like when she'd first revealed who she was to him—only for it to go wrong—Marinette used her powers to get to a high place in the city, conveniently choosing a spot between their two homes, before dropping the transformation and sitting down on the rooftop.

She'd brought a jacket along, just to stay warm.

To pass the time, she played a game on her phone.

And when he turned up, it was as Chat. He had to be like that, of course; there was no way that Adrien would be allowed so late at night, let alone be able to get up onto a random rooftop of a building.

He almost lost his footing when he'd landed and saw her. “Mari—Marinette?”

“Hi,” she deadpanned, lifting a hand up in greeting. “You took a while.”

“You—” Adrien started, cutting himself off and standing there in front of her, confusion evident on his expression. “What are you doing here?”

She went back to tapping at her phone. “Trying to beat my high score.”

“...That's really not what I asked,” he remarked. With a sigh, he sat down beside her, not close enough for them to touch, but for him to be able to see her device. “How did you get up here?”

“I got a lift,” she replied.

“But you're...” Adrien seemed to be struggling for words. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, leaving it to touch the nape of his neck for a bit. “You should be at home right now. Aren't your parents worried about you?”

She snorted. “Aren't yours?”

“I don't know what you mean,” he said.

“Funny that,” she started, locking her phone and slipping it into the pocket of her jacket. “I asked Adrien to meet here, and you turn up? What am I supposed to think?”

“Adrien?” he repeated, voice a little strangled. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

She tried not to laugh. “No?”

“No, definitely not,” he confirmed, hand falling back down by his side as he pulled one knee up to his chest, resting his elbow on it and trying to appear casual. “I have no idea what you're talking about me.”

She hummed. “I'm sure.”

“It's— _hey_ ,” Adrien started, interrupting himself to look at her strangely. “You're not—it was supposed to be someone else here, not you.”

His attempt at trying to hide his identity lasted barely a minute. Whether it was because he trusted her—which he had to, to some extent, for them to be friends—or it was because of her connection to Ladybug that he was starting to be open with her.

Then again, he was an idiot.

“I told you, I got a lift,” Marinette pointed out, reaching up and tightening her ponytail. “Ladybug dropped me off here.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “I—why?”

“I wanted to confirm a theory,” she stated, looking at him with a grin. “And you pretty much did that already, so thanks. I really did wonder why you always wandered off during attacks.”

He swallowed audibly. “Marinette—”

“I'm not going to blab to anyone,” she assured him, touching his arm. “I already know who Ladybug is, remember? And you're not exactly... subtle about all this. I've had my suspicions for a while.”

For as much as her words meant to him, he came out with, “I'm not supposed to tell anyone.”

“Yeah, and you're not supposed to illegally download and watch films,” she replied lightly. “But I do that anyway.”

Adrien huffed. “Absolutely not the same thing.”

“Eh, it's similar,” she explained away, feeling a little bad from seeing his frown. As petty as she was for him not believing her, it was never her intention to make him feel stressed.

With a sigh, he asked, “Was I really that obvious?”

She lied, “Yes.”

If it hadn't been for him wearing her merchandise, she would've never guessed. They'd been near to each other for years—for as long as Ladybug and Chat Noir had been around—but she'd never looked twice at him, thinking that he was capable of that.

Maybe, it was because she didn't want to connect one of her best friends to the guy that she had an obnoxious crush on. And when that had died down, and she'd started to actually get along with Adrien and be able to have a proper conversation with him, that trail of thought had already left her head.

“I can help you with excuses now,” she announced, taking her hand back and adjusting how she was sitting to be more comfortable. “Think of me like your little sidekick or something.”

Adrien shook his head, the smile on his lips not forced in the slightest. “Did you—did you lie about Ladybug wanting to meet me?”

While it had actually been to see whether he'd believe her bold-faced lie of being dropped off, she replied, “It was all my plan to make you reveal yourself.”

He whistled. “I'm an idiot.”

“I figured as much when you didn't tell me it was impossible to get up here before,” she pointed out. “That didn't really click for you, did it?”

His smile was sheepish. “No.”

Marinette patted his shoulder. “I'll try and protect you from your own stupidity.”

“How come you're not, like, freaking out?” he questioned, tilting his head a little as he looked at her. “I'm a superhero and all that. Aren't you—aren't you supposed to have more of a reaction than this?”

“On the inside, I'm screaming,” she told him. “But, really, I kind of processed it when I had my suspicions? Actually seeing you just feels me with smugness.”

“Smugness,” he repeated.

She grinned. “Now I know you like to run around in skintight clothing. We learn something new everyday, eh?”

Adrien looked close to rolling his eyes. “That's what you have to say to me?”

“Well.” She wetted her lips. “There's also the fact that Ladybug gave me a gift after dropping me off.”

His curiosity was clear in his voice as he asked, “And why would she give you anything?”

“We're best friends,” Marinette announced, tucking some stray hairs behind the ear closest to him, drawing attention to her lobes. “She thought they'd look simply... miraculous on me.”

He leaned in closer to get a better look, expression quickly turning to startled when it clicked on it what she was trying to say. “That's...” Adrien started, brow furrowing beneath the mask. “But you wear them everyday.”

“I'm trusted with them,” she replied, wiggling her fingers as she continued to draw attention to the jewellery. “If I said the words right now, I'd transform.”

He choked out, “You know about _that_?”

There was that little bit of her that was gleeful about how gobsmacked he seemed to be. As much as she adored him, she was still bitter that he was refusing to accept the truth—even when she was sat right in front of him in a ridiculous situation.

“I know a lot of things.” Marinette winked. “Like the ring you're always wearing? It's not very subtle, you know.”

Dumbfounded, he didn't try to rebut that, instead lifting his hand up to inspect it. “This is weird.”

“Weird?” she questioned.

“Sure, you know about... transforming,” he slowly said. “But if they really were Ladybug's, how'd she drop you off?”

She blinked. “Because she's still here.”

“What?” Adrien leaned back, turning his head to look around him. “But we're—we're the only ones here.”

Her sarcasm was very obvious as she muttered, “Shocking.”

“You're teasing me,” Adrien concluded, crossing his arms. “They can't be Ladybug's. You've been wearing them for as long as I've known you.”

“And as long as you've known Ladybug,” Marinette pointed out, reaching out and tapping him on the nose, as though she was interacting with a child. “Another coincidence, is it not?”

He batted her hand away playfully. “I will not be mocked.”

“I mean, you are pretty stupid,” she cooed. “You deserve to be mocked.”

“ _Rude_!”

“Sorry if I freaked you out,” Marinette offered, pulling the sleeves of her jacket over hands. “I didn't think you'd turn up, to be honest?”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“I'm supposed to be sceptical that you know a superhero, aren't I?” she replied. “But you did just accept it, like an idiot.”

Adrien looked at for a moment before he let out a laugh. “I did, didn't I?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“I trust you,” Adrien stated, meeting her gaze. “Really, I do. But I still have to ask you to keep this a secret. I haven't—no one else knows.”

She held up a hand, crossing her index and middle fingers. “You have my word.”

“Promise?” he asked, the smile across his lips fond and showing his dimples.

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

With enthusiasm, Adrien stretched an arm out, wrapping it around her shoulders and tugging her closer until she was against his chest. “You're going to be the best sidekick.”

She snorted. “You could just hug me.”

He tightened his hold. “I don't know about that.”

“Do you know about anything?” she muttered.

“I could crush you,” he blurted. “Right now.”

Laughing, she taunted, “Try me, bitch.”

He tickled her instead.

-x-

Adrien started to text her a lot more.

Whether it was because she was in on his secret, or he'd suddenly decided to be more sociable and not reply hours after his last message, as he usually did, she wasn't sure.

All she knew for certain was that he was interacting with her a lot more outside of the times they saw each other at school. And it was only really in the hallways, when they were walking together, that they had time alone. Alya and Nino appeared for lunch, the four of them usually a package deal when they ate.

It was rare for the couple to wander off and eat alone.

He still didn't believe her, though.

With the knowledge of who he was, Adrien was a lot more open about talking about that part of his life. He confessed to her that it was hard to remember that if he was wearing a backpack while transforming, the backpack cease to be until he returned back to normal.

Marinette replied that it was the same if any part of the body was wet.

He asked her how that had come up in conversation with Ladybug.

She said it didn't.

He just sent back a load of emojis.

Sometimes, she wondered whether he was just terribly oblivious.

He had to be—he hadn't realised her ridiculous crush on him for over the first year and a half that they'd known each other, when she'd been tongue-tied and ended up blurting out the weirdest things around him. Surely, he couldn't just think that she was that awkward with only him for no reason.

As it turned out, it was close.

“Do you find it weird how we get along now?” she questioned, Adrien sitting beside her in her bedroom. It was rare for him to be given permission to be allowed round anyone else's; it always involved phone calls to parents and supervision. “Compared to when we first met, I mean.”

Adrien sounded a bit sheepish as he revealed, “I thought you didn't like me much.”

“Oh, no,” Marinette was quick to deny, taking a peek away from the screen their game was being displayed on to gauge his reaction. “I think I liked you a little too much.”

“I don't think so,” he mused, the sound of him repeatedly tapping one button on his controller very audible. “You could barely even look at me most of the time. Did I break you down eventually? Is that it, Marinette?”

She laughed. “You're not that charming.”

“You're saying I don't charm you?” Adrien asked, aghast. “That's so _rude_.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” she admitted, only a little bit embarrassed about admitting it to him. But she'd done worse in his presence—had cried until her voice was hoarse when they were together before—but he just didn't know that it was her. “I kind of realised you're not perfect.”

He clicked his tongue. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

With a grin, she replied, “You're welcome.”

“Tell me all about how horrible I am, then,” he suggested. “Tell me about my let-downs. I'll try and fix them.”

“You're downright awful,” she assured him, leaning closer and resting her head on his shoulder, still focused on the screen as she tried to kill his character. “I particularly hate the way you fiddle with your hair all the time. It always looks good.”

She could feel it as he laughed. “That sounds more like a compliment.”

“I resent you for your looks,” Marinette shot back.

“But it's all I have going for me,” Adrien complained. “I'm just a dweeb without them.”

“I'd like you as a dweeb,” she stated. “Even if you had bad hair. For once, I'd like to be the prettier one out of the two of us. I don't think I'm asking for too much.”

Adrien died in-game. “You're always pretty.”

“Oh, I know,” Marinette replied.

He shot her a pointed look as the game loaded a new match for them. “Try and take a compliment modestly, would you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Coming from you?”

“Eh, forget that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Did I—was I that annoying? Before?”

“Oh, terribly so,” she said, but from the glare she got, it was very clear that she was joking. “You really haven't figured it out, have you?”

He frowned. “What?”

With a push of a button, the game paused.

“I wasn't exactly subtle,” she muttered, reaching up and pushing some hairs away from her face. “And all our friends were in on it, you know? Well, no— _you_ wouldn't know, would you?”

Slowly, he raised a hand to take ahold of hers, clasping it and letting them fall down to his lap. “You're rambling.”

“I'm not exactly good at confessing,” Marinette said with a bittersweet smile. “Didn't exactly go well the last time.”

He questioned, “Last time?”

“Let's scratch that,” she answered, taking her hand back and raising both arms to form a cross to emphasise her words. “I had an obnoxious crush on you for, like, a solid year and a bit.”

Surprise was clear on his face. “You—what?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, nodding her head as pretending they were talking about something as casual as the weather. “It was one of those—really dumb crushes? The kind where you get all tongue-tied and I felt really, really nervous whenever I was with you, but I'm completely fine now. I know you're a dweeb, so it's all good.”

His voice as quiet as he asked, “You liked me?”

She almost looked away. “Yeah.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes. His lips parted, no words escaping, and he looked at her earnestly, surely trying to convey what he was struggling to get out.

“I mean, you're hopelessly obsessed with Ladybug, so it's not like I had a chance,” she said, voice coming out a little higher than usual. “Right?”

He swallowed. “Right.”

There was no rebuttal that he'd gotten over that.

It made her smile.

And when she unpaused the game, Adrien didn't protest. They played in silence for a little bit, only the noise of them pressing the controller with a bit more enthusiasm than needed, and she did catch him glancing at her a few times, looking away when he was caught.

It was a little cute.

“Loser,” she teased when he lost again.

He huffed. “It's my fault you're good at this.”

“You could always practice,” she pointed out.

Adrien sniffed. “I have other games to play. You can't tear me away from them.”

“Not even for the glory of beating me?” she questioned.

“I don't know,” he said, drawing out the last vowel. “What's in it for me?”

It made sense that they got along together out of costume, didn't it? Once Marinette had opened up and realised that he wasn't perfect—wasn't going to judge her for having a hair out of place—and stopped having clammy hands at the thought of sitting next up, it was only natural for their friendship to progress like it had when they were in costume.

It was the matter of connecting the jokes, the little half-smiles that Adrien did when he found something amusing, and the passing comments to the ones she'd seen combined with Chat Noir with his green scelera, everything she'd started to think was ever-so-charming on him.

She was really happy she wasn't thirteen when she found out who Adrien was.

It probably would've ruined everything between them.

“Other than the right to be smug?” she mused. “What if I said I'd tell you something about Ladybug?”

Adrien shook his head. “You shouldn't—”

“Oh, I'm well within my right to,” she said, patting his knee. “Trust me.”

He looked dubious. “You're allowed to be the judge of that?”

“When it comes to this? Yes,” she replied. “I have knowledge that you'd kill to have.”

Adrien asked, “Do you?”

With a grin, she leaned in to whisper, “Want a teaser?”

He still looked suspicious. “...If you're offering, sure.”

“Ladybug really does want to meet you tomorrow.”

It was still evading her why he was so adamant about accepting it. All it would take was for her to transform in front of him—but wasn't that too easy?

Adrien was irritating.

Then again, if he'd told her that he was Adrien Agreste, she would've laughed in his face.

Maybe, just maybe, she could see where he was coming from. He'd seen her blurting out random words to him, to calming down and actually having proper conversations, but he still saw her embarrassing moments: like when she'd spilled paint all over her in class, and thrown up on the floor in the middle of a lesson, and countless other things.

He'd also been in her bedroom, sitting side-by-side and playing video games. Occasionally, he came over to study, but it was rarely for that reason.

Adrien was all smiles the following day.

He text her as soon as school was out.

And when she travelled to where she'd told him to go, he was there first.

“Ladybug!” he greeted, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his suit. “It's actually you this time.”

She huffed. “It was me before.”

“A cosplayer, maybe,” Adrien mused, coming to stand in front of her, visibly happy and almost jittery as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I missed you. It feels like it's been forever.”

“It hasn't been that long,” Marinette pointed out. “Besides, you seemed perfectly fine today. A lot more smiley than before.”

He took in a sharp breath. “You were there?”

“I do go to your school,” she whispered her confession, using one hand to cup her mouth, as though it would make her voice go further. “Did you forget about that little bit of information?”

“But I don't know who you are,” Adrien said, frowning. “You said you'd tell me.”

She made a show of thinking, tapping her finger against her chin. “Why don't we make a game of it?”

“Ladybug—”

“No, no,” she interrupted, pointing that finger at him. “If you win, you get the right to be smug.”

He squinted. “That's it?”

“And anything else you want, spoiled boy,” she gave in. “But I cross the line at admitting you're the best. That's clearly asking for too much.”

Chat took a moment to ask, “Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?”

“You didn't believe me last time,” she replied, honest. “But, considering how dumb you are, you also didn't realise that someone had a ridiculous crush on you.”

He threw his hands up in disbelief. “ _You_ knew?”

She had to wonder whether he was doing it on purpose to mess with her.

“It was me, idiot,” she scolded, taking a step back. “Are you—you can't seriously be this dense. Like, for real. I've been stupidly obvious about all of this.”

He frowned. “That's not nice.”

“You're not one to talk about nice!” she accused, though there wasn't any heat in her voice. More than anything, it was exasperation. “You were literally in my room last night.”

“No, I wasn't—”

“Adrien, dude,” she interrupted, closing the distance to put both her hands on his shoulders him in the eyes. “We've literally been beside each other all along.”

The best way to describe his expression was dubious. “Can you prove that?”

“I've been trying to!” Marinette exclaimed. “You haven't—will you really only believe me if I drop this? For real?”

He shrugged. “Yes, sure.”

Unceremoniously, she did.

There was only the sound of the cars below, the not-so-busy streets, as Adrien standing there, gaping at her in disbelief.

She didn't have a jacket that time.

She crossed her arms for warmth, tucking her hands in. “Hi.”

“You're—you're Marinette,” he stuttered out.

With a grin, she asked, “Am I?”

And when he glanced down at her attire, realising that she was in her pyjamas and the slippers weren't doing much to combat the cold, he jumped forward, pulling her into his arms. “You're really not dressed for this.”

“You're not much warmer, you know,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don't feel it,” Adrien replied. “You know that.”

Still, she leaned against his chest, trying to get a little bit of warmth. “I know a lot, actually.”

“Like me being an idiot,” he muttered.

“I _did_ try and tell you—”

“You were being so weird about it!” he defended.

Marinette had to laugh at that. “Me?” she questioned. “You're the one that refused to believe me! I was giving you so, so many signals, idiot.”

“Signals?” Amusement was clear in his tone. “Like when you had your crush on me?”

“I will push you off this roof,” she threatened.

“I might like that,” he said. “It means you'll have your hands on me for a little while. I'm down for that.”

She punched his chest lightly, even though he would barely feel it if she'd used her full strength. “I'm touching you right now.”

“And I'm savouring every moment,” he assured her, pulling her closer. “But you don't even have long sleeves on, so can you transform back?”

She hummed. “Are you going to reject my identity if I do that?”

He spluttered, “It was _one_ time—”

“More than once!” Marinette interrupted. “It's not my fault that you're so fucking stubborn.”

Adrien snorted. “I'm not the one that cosplayed myself for weeks.”

And when she transformed back, she didn't step away from his embrace. Adrien didn't flinch away in shock, barely moved at all, and when he looked into her eyes, his smile was soft and affectionate.

“Oh, I wonder why that was,” she muttered, shooting him a disapproving look. “That really didn't make you think? At all?”

“I'm known for my looks, not my brain,” was his response.

Marinette reached up to pinch his cheek. “I understand.”

“Somehow, I'm offended by that,” he stated, turning his head to try and bite her finger. “You're awful, do you know that, right?”

She laughed. “Better than being dumb.”

“Now you're insulting me again!” he accused. “When will I be free of this meanness?”

“...Meanness,” she repeated.

He sniffed. “It's suitable.”

“If you say so, dear,” she said.

“I think I'm getting punished for hugging you,” Adrien remarked. “What do you have to say about that?”

She beamed. “You're not wrong.”

“So, you'll be nice to you when I'm not hugging you?” he asked.

“I'll think about it,” she replied. “I can't promise anything.”

Adrien laughed. “Well, you can try.”

“I'd rather not lead you on,” Marinette responded. “After all, you might not believe me—”

He squeezed her tightly.

She pretended to wheeze. “There goes my ribs.”

“You deserved it,” he proclaimed. “You don't get to complain about being bullied.”

“I really don't think that's how that works.”

He squeezed again.

“Squished my lung now,” she stated. “I'll never be the same.”

Adrien pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I'll take care of you.”

“You're the one that maimed me, you monster,” she retorted. “You'll never be allowed to take care of me.”

“Harsh, Bug,” he murmured. “Real harsh.”

-x-

Adrien continued to text her a lot.

He waited for her outside the front of their college in the mornings, just so they were able to spend a few more minutes together. If he was actually allowed to walk to-and-from school, she was sure he would've come to pick her up, even though their homes were in different directions.

There wasn't much of a noticeable difference, she thought. They were close before it had happened—enough so for him to go over to her house sometimes—but the way she kept finding him looking in her direction was new.

But rather than be embarrassed about being caught, he smiled.

Their friends didn't comment on the shift.

A lot of their inside jokes were being incorporated in their everyday lives.

And it seemed that he had little to no trouble coming to terms with her being Ladybug; or, that was all she was seeing in person. Marinette knew that she'd been terribly confused about him in the beginning, but it was noticing his little habits, or the way that he spoke, that helped her understand it all.

And while Adrien wasn't allowed out without his father's permission, it wasn't the same for Chat Noir.

It was a weekend when he asked her whether she was still awake.

And when she said yes, he sent a series of thinking emojis before asking whether he could come over.

Marinette said that her parents were asleep, but she didn't get an answer to that.

Instead, some minutes later, there was a knock at her window.

At first, she turned the light on and stared at Adrien through the glass, unsure of what her expression was actually showing. It was just—it was so irresponsible, but endearing at the same time.

She'd never even considered it happening.

He wiggled his gloved fingers at her, smile showing his teeth.

It would've been far more dramatic if she'd remembered to close her curtains before he arrived.

And when she cracked the window open, the hinges a bit stuff from lack of use, Adrien tugged from the outside to make enough room for him to tumble awkwardly through it. Somehow, he didn't make a lot of noise, nor did fall on the floor and wake her parents up.

Adrien straightened up, clicking his thumb and middle finger before pointing at her. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she replied, amusement clear in her tone. “Couldn't sleep?”

“I'd usually stay up playing games for far too long tonight, but since you're free, I—I thought we could spend some time together?” Adrien answered, but the last bit came out sounding like a question. “I mean, if you're okay with that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You're already here.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Is that okay?”

She didn't have to think about her answer. “Yeah, it is.”

In a blink of an eye, he dropped the transformation. Adrien was dressing in loose-fitting clothing, clearly his pyjamas, and Marinette immediately asked him whether he wanted a blanket to stay warm.

They ended up sharing one, the two of them sat on the little sofa she had in her room.

Their knees were touching.

“I like that we can do this,” Adrien confessed in a whisper, tucking one of his knees up to his chest to get comfortable, leaning his head on top of it. “When we're... us, you know.”

“You been here before,” Marinette pointed out. “Just not as—close?”

His grin was lazy. “Trying to say you're closer to me now, are you?”

“Well, we are touching right now,” she replied, taping her temple. “It's okay to be the dumb one here.”

“You do have enough smarts for the both of us,” he agreed, not at all offended. “Do you—I don't know how to ask this.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

Adrien wetted his lips. “Do you like me more? Now that you know?”

“I guess so?” Marinette mused. “I'm not disappointed at all, if that's what you're weirdly trying to ask. It's just that—two of my closest friends are the same person? There's no way I could be disappointed in that, not at all.”

He met her gaze. “Not even when I'm so dumb?”

“That's what's so great about you,” she teased. “You can't be a pretty face and all brains, right?”

He batted his eyelashes. “You're right.”

“I usually am,” she replied with a straight face.

To her surprise, he asked, “What did you like about me?”

She blinked. “As in—what?”

“For your crush,” he prompted, his grin nothing but wide and happy. “The one you had on me in the beginning, yeah?”

At the mention of it when he was so close, her face felt hotter. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about it—she'd accepted it, overcome it and the teasing from all of their friends—but there was something different about him being the one to ask about it. When Adrien had said that he didn't know, she really believed him.

She believed almost everything he told her.

“A lot,” she admitted, reaching up and brushing some hair behind her ear. “But I didn't... I didn't really know you? Not like I do now. I kind of just... put you on a pedestal and thought that you couldn't do anything wrong.”

He nodded along with her words and sat up straight, whispering, “I do a lot wrong.”

“Me, too,” she agreed.

“I had the same on you,” Adrien confessed, the expression he was giving her full of fondness. “On Ladybug.”

“I heard about that in passing,” she replied, chest feeling warm. “But I—I didn't really believe it? But now I know you _do_ know me, so it's—”

He interrupted with, “But you do know me, too. You just didn't know it at the time.”

“I guess,” she lamely agreed. “But it's different now.”

“Because you don't panic while talking to me?” he teased.

She elbowed him lightly in the side. “Because I don't all sweaty and want to die when I say something wrong.”

Adrien's reaction was dramatic. “You _don't_ get sweaty thinking about me?”

Rather than reply to that, she winked.

He placed the back of his hand to his forehead. “Careful, you're almost making me swoon.”

“You're ridiculous,” she accused, pulling the blanket closer and tucking it behind her back. The movement caused her to move so they were touching more, but neither of them complained about it.

“But you like me that way,” was his reply.

It was a surge of confidence that she said, “Yeah, I do.”

Adrien laughed. “That didn't take much.”

“Because it isn't a secret,” she answered, smile reaching her eyes. “You can't be oblivious enough not to realise I don't treat everyone else like this, right?”

“Well, I am kind of a special case,” he pointed out. “I feel like being your partner ranks me above everyone else for a good reason.”

With a laugh, she asked, “Because I can push you off high buildings?”

“That, too,” he agreed, snickering.

Marinette leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You mean a lot to me, you know that, right?”

“I think I do,” Adrien whispered.

She swallowed. “I really like you, Adrien.”

There was barely any hesitation. “I really like you, too.”

“You mean you don't sneak out to visit anyone else in the night?” she joked.

“There's a first time for everything,” he answered. “I just—I really wanted to see you. You can tell me to leave whenever.”

She closed her eyes, comfortable. “I don't want you to leave.”

All she got in return for that was, “Okay.”

And it was.

They didn't have to fill every silence with words; they sat there together for a while, Adrien shifting to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and it didn't feel awkward in the slightest. There was never a moment where she felt like she was invading his space, that she was being too much, or that they really should've have been together in such late hours of the evening.

If anything, she wanted it to happen more.

And before she knew it, she was groggily opening her eyes, being greeted by Adrien's tentative smile.

The sun was coming in through the window behind them, curtains still not closed, and there was a pain in her back from sleeping against him. Adrien had obviously shifted them a little so they were stretched out, more comfortable for him in the long-run, and she hadn't even realised she was tired when they were curled up together.

She swallowed.

“Morning,” he whispered, ever-so-quietly.

Her voice came out kind of hoarse. “Hey.”

Adrien's smile showed his dimples. “Your parents haven't been awake long.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “They didn't—”

“Come in?” he supplied. “No, but I heard them.”

She answered that with a nod.

Adrien reached up to brush some of the hair off of her face. “You're not a morning person, are you?”

She still felt half-asleep.

“Cute,” he remarked.

Marinette didn't really know how to reply to that.

“I should probably get going.” He sighed. “I'll text you when I get home, okay?”

Considering he'd started to text her whenever he woke up, she didn't think that was anything new.

However, him kissing her cheek before transforming and slipping just as clumsily through her window was.

She touched her cheek sleepily.

It wasn't only when they were alone that he acted close to her.

Well, closer than normal. Adrien's way of showing his affection was more through actions than words; he reached out and touched her back when he asked how she was, brushed her hand when passing her an item, and was visibly happy in the mornings when they hugged.

So, it was only natural for their friends to question it.

“What the fuck is going on?” Alya asked, dumbfounded as Adrien walked away to try and catch a teacher to talk about his assignment.

She tried to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

Nino helpfully supplied, “Adrien just tucked your hair behind your ear, dude.”

She shrugged. “I don't like it in my face.”

“Right.” There was nothing in Alya's tone that showed that she was convinced. “And you've been very... touchy-feely together lately.”

Marinette grinned. “But I touch you all the time.”

“Tell me the truth,” Nino requested. “Are you finally boning or what?”

She scrunched her face up at that. “ _No_.”

The topic was dropped, but that didn't mean it stopped the raised eyebrows from the two of them when Adrien came back, sitting down beside and scooting his chair closer so he could show her something on his phone.

She wasn't shy about it.

Adrien was—

He was really, really great.

And with the sudden epiphany about _who_ he was, it made spending time with him all the more better. It took a little a while to adjust and be perfectly comfortable with all the skin-ship—but she'd been doing it with him for years, just not realising who he was.

The night-time visits became a regular thing.

It was reckless, stupid, and if anyone were to see Chat Noir entering her bedroom window there would've been more than a few questions.

When she suggested she could go over to his, Adrien glumly replied, “There's cameras.”

“But you get out?” she pointed out, eyebrows knitted together.

“There's a blind spot, but I don't want to get caught and get it taken away,” he confessed. “I'll be doomed otherwise.”

So, that idea was out.

What wasn't out, however, was Adrien bringing out some of his gaming systems that she didn't own, along with games, controllers, and all the things they needed for their time together.

Sometimes, they did homework, but it was usually so late that the both of them had it done already.

He started leaving everything in her room, finding it far more convenient to not lug them back and forth.

“Won't you miss these?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It's much more fun to play with you than alone.”

Her cheeks felt a bit warm at that. “If you're sure.”

His smile reached his eyes. “I am.”

And when he was staying late again, neither of them having school the following day, Marinette shyly asked, “We could sleep in my bed, if you want?”

He almost choked. “What?”

“Rather than down here,” she explained, patting the sofa with one hand. “It'll be more comfortable, right? And we're both in pyjamas.”

Adrien cleared his throat. “You'd... be okay with that?”

“Yeah, why not?” she replied without hesitation. “It's not like we don't sleep together anyway. It's pretty much the same thing.”

“I—right,” he stuttered out, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “You're—you're sure about this?”

Marinette grinned. “Yeah, dude.”

She could see that the top of his ears were pink, but she didn't comment on it.

And when he was the one yawning as they sat side-by-side, playing a two-player game and progressing through the story, Marinette was the one that had to suggest that they sleep. It was rare that he left to run back to his home at night; most of the time, he only came over when he had no obligations the next morning.

He was still as much as a morning person as he was the first time, though.

The most awkward part of getting into bed with him was that he seemed determined to be as far away from her as possible. Marinette almost laughed as he tried to keep his legs to himself, even though the both of them were wearing trousers, but he was still facing her.

She'd shut her curtains that time.

The small bit of light in her room was from her keyboard that was constantly lit up, making itself known.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He had the duvet tucked up until it was almost covering his face. “Hi.”

“Can't say I ever thought we'd be having sleepovers,” she admitted.

Adrien cracked a smile at that. “No? I think that would've been your dream come true. Before, I mean.”

“I'll kick you,” she threatened with a laugh. “Don't tempt me.”

Amusement was clear in his tone. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes, it's absolutely my dream right now,” she corrected. “How could you be so foolish?”

“My bad, I must've missed all the swooning,” he replied. “I'll try and keep my eyes open for it in the future.”

She snorted. “I swoon all the time around you, I swear.”

“That's good to know,” he said. “Otherwise I'd have to question my flirting techniques.”

“I'm sure they're fine,” Marinette assured him, reaching out and patting his arm underneath the covers. It made the duvet fall a bit down, no longer right by his head. “You'll knock someone out with them someday, I promise.”

He cleared his throat. “What are the chances of it working on you?”

“Eh, it's hit-or-miss,” she remarked.

“For real, though,” he persisted. “If I flirt with you, are you just going to punch me?”

She tucked her legs up by her chest, getting comfortable. “That depends on whether you're serious or not.”

There was a beat of silence.

Ever-so-quietly, he asked, “What if I am?”

“Then, I'd tell you that when Alya stays here, she normally sleeps on the floor on another mattress,” she whispered.

“Not even offering your bed?” he joked. “You're a bad friend.”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

And when he clumsily reached out and took ahold of her hand, she didn't protest the action. Marinette stayed where she was, still curled up and facing him, their breaths audible as she stared at him in the dim lighting.

She really, really liked him.

“So,” he started. “Any chance you'll get that crush on me back?”

She wetted her lips.

Quietly, she replied, “Who said it ever went?”

“I—you did?” Adrien stuttered out. “Didn't you?”

“The ridiculous one did,” she pointed out. “I'm very down-to-earth now. I'm not planning our wedding or thinking about the names for our pets.”

“Oh,” he said. “I don't know what to say to that.”

She laughed. “Congratulate me for growing up.”

“Well done for growing up,” he praised, squeezing her hand. “You did a really good job.”

It wasn't how she'd thought she'd be confessing to him again, but she wasn't mad about it. “Thanks.”

“It's very clear I like you, right?” Adrien asked.

With a smile, she answered, “A little bit.”

“That's good,” Adrien whispered. “Yeah. Real good.”

And wasn't it _strange_ that it had come to that? The idea of having Adrien sleeping over had never been viable, and a few months ago while they were friends, close enough for him to come to hers every now and then, it was never enough for them to sleep beside each other.

Adrien hadn't looked at her with such fondness, had never been close enough for her to see the blond on the end of his eyelashes when they were in the light, and he'd never reached out to touch her as much as he had since finding out who she was.

But she wasn't upset about it at all.

“Want to get ice cream and stare grossly at each other sometime?” she suggested.

Adrien laughed. “Hell, yes.”

“Cool.” She was smiling widely. “It's a date, then.”

“Really cool,” he agreed.

And when she woke up in the morning to see his soft expression as he looked at her, their legs tangled and her trousers riding up to her knees and being terribly uncomfortable, she couldn't describe how happy she was.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) (*´―`*)❤


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